The Brenda Walsh Story
by LizaLizBethy
Summary: Taking up where Season 4 leaves off, this is kind of a spin off of the original show, chronicling Brenda's time in London and her life after the finale, in glimpses and snap shots. Many of the original series characters will appear, plus some newbies.
1. London Fog

**The Brenda Walsh Story**

A/N: Don't fear for the fate of my other stories; I've found that beginning something new helps break writer's block for me, because it filters ideas out of my head. So with that in mind, I'm beginning work on this story, which is really more a series of one-shots that all take place in my own little private universe.

Basically, the idea is, this story will cover pieces of Brenda's life that the show doesn't cover; glimpses of her time in London, her new friends, her career, etc., running somewhat parallel to the series, and going past the end of the series. Given that I'm the author here, I won't bother trying to hide the fact that Brenda will end up with Dylan, but this isn't all about B/D. He'll be important, but so will other relationships, and B/D fans will be very mad at me for a LOT of this story.

But hopefully you'll read it anyway :D

With that said… here we go.

**London Fog**

**June 1, 1994**

Brenda Walsh stepped off of the plane and immediately realized she was completely alone. There was no one waiting for her at the airport and no friends or family beside her, for only the second time in her life. And the last time, she'd been touching down in California and going straight to her family's home. Now, she was on her own.

Stopping in her tracks, Brenda took a deep breath, and counted to five, hoping to calm the paranoia that she quickly realized hadn't even hit yet. All she felt was tremendous relief. Here, she could be herself. She could start over. No Brandon to compete with, no Dylan to compete for. The only person she had to try to impress was herself.

Okay, she should probably try to impress her professors, as well, but since it was only a summer program anyway, there was plenty of room to relax.

After claiming her baggage and stumbling her way through the crowds of people greeting loved ones or bidding each other tearful farewells, Brenda stepped outside onto a London street for the first time in her life.

It was raining.

She didn't mind.

In fact, it seemed kind of ideal. If it had been a perfect day, with the sun beaming and the streets gleaming, it would seem too much like California. The rain proved that this really was a chance for a fresh start.

With a beaming smile, Brenda hailed a taxi cab and gave the address of the Bloomsbury Hotel where she'd be staying. It was costing her the entirety of her savings, but at least it was close to campus, and she'd be able to explore the museums and libraries fairly easily. She was determined to make these six weeks count, because all too soon she'd be forced to go back to California, where she'd come to feel a permanent weight on her shoulders.

It was exhausting, trying to maintain the increasingly frayed ties between herself and her friends and family. Even the easy friendship she'd once shared with Donna had come to be a chore to maintain, and she'd found she had trouble even speaking to Kelly without turning it into an argument. Her parents were clearly disappointed in her choices, or at least, her father was, and her mother was refraining from expressing an opinion. Brandon had made it clear he resented her presence in his life, and Steve, David and Andrea didn't seem to care whether she was in their lives or not.

And Dylan…

She had trouble looking at Dylan without feeling her heartbreak. Even the last week she'd spent in California, the last beautiful week when she'd been his girlfriend again, everything had felt wrong. She found herself not telling him things she would have once confided without trouble, not doing things because she was worried about what he'd think. She spent the whole week worrying that he'd run back to Kelly the first chance he got, and he'd sensed the tension, too. It was far from the happiest week they'd ever spent together.

Ultimately, they'd decided to let things be for the summer, and if they wanted to, they would get back together when she returned in September (because the Walshes would be traveling for the second half of the summer – her family would come to London for a few weeks in July, then they'd all go to New York to see the Malones for the first week of August, and to Minnesota to see family and old friends for the rest of August).

So for six weeks, Brenda was free of strings. She was Brenda Walsh, actress and student, instead of Brenda Walsh, sister, daughter, friend, ex-girlfriend. And it wasn't likely to affect her life one way or another if she excelled, or if she failed.

"First time in London?" the driver asked as they made their way through the streets of the city.

"How did you know?" Brenda asked, still smiling the same smile that had graced her face when she first entered the cab.

"You have a look," the driver smiled back, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror. "Just visiting?"

"I'm here for a summer program," she answered, "with the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts."

"Ahhh," the driver's face, reflected in the rearview mirror, told her he was impressed, as did his voice. A warmth filled Brenda's stomach, a warmth she was entirely unfamiliar with. "They only take the best there."

"That's what I'm told," she answered, trying to appear modest, while inside she was doing jumping jacks. This must be what it felt like to be Brandon, when complete strangers were congratulating him on meeting the president and being on the task force, or when the hockey team went to the state championships way back in eighth grade.

"Well, here we are Miss," the driver announced a few minutes later, pulling to a stop in front of Brenda's hotel, a nice brick townhouse, with a small garden and a sign in front. He told her the price, and Brenda overpaid, still beaming. She climbed out of the cab and gathered her luggage, staying on the sidewalk for a minute to stare up at the building that would be home for the next six weeks.

"Oh and Miss," the driver called out the window, as she stood staring up at the hotel. Brenda turned back to face him, half in a daze. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Brenda smiled and waived as he drove off. Then, summoning her courage, she gathered up her luggage and walked up the front steps and rang the bell.

"Hi," she announced when a petite, elderly woman opened the door and welcomed her to the hotel. "My name's Brenda Walsh, and I'm here for the next six weeks."

_And I am damn sure going to make them count, _she added silently.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	2. Ask Me to Stay

A/N: This one's just an establishing chapter, kind of like the last one, but with a little more substance. Anyway, after this chapter, the story will really get started, at the start of the fall semester. Just a heads up, I know very little about the RADA, and have never been to London. I am doing minimal amounts of research here, because I'm a college student and professional researcher, and sometimes, I just want to stop studying, but I'll try not to make any truly egregious errors. If anyone knows a lot about the RADA, I would love to find out what the typical semester looks like; what classes are like, etc.

**Ask Me to Stay**

**July 13, 1994**

"Roy Randolph is in your room," Anastasia Redgrave announced as soon as Brenda stepped into the hotel lobby. Anastasia was a fellow student in the summer program, who happened to be staying at the same hotel, which was apparently known for its low prices for students. Brenda wasn't exactly close with Anastasia, but they'd become friendly based on sheer convenience. It didn't suck to have someone to walk home with late at night, especially in an unfamiliar city.

"Excuse me?" Brenda blinked at Anastasia as she collected her mail. There was no way she could have heard correctly. "Did you just say…"

"Roy Randolph is, at this moment, in your bedroom," Anastasia repeated, the impressed expression on her face fading away to a sly, sleuthing look. "Say, didn't he pull strings to get you accepted into the program last minute? You two aren't…?"

_Not this crap again, _Brenda thought, annoyed. Anastasia was a class A gossip, and if Brenda didn't nip this in the bud now, she'd never live it down.

"God, no," Brenda shook her head emphatically, scrunching her face into a look of disgust. "Never."

"Yeah, I figured not," Anastasia shrugged her shoulders. "For one thing you're actually talented, and for another, you, my dear, are not his type."

"Thanks," Brenda muttered dryly.

"His preference for blonds is well documented," Anastasia smirked, flicking her own long blond hair, no doubt hoping her own beauty would dazzle the director on his way out of the building. That was probably why she was hanging out in the lobby in the first place. It had some chairs and bookshelves, and it was fairly cozy, but Anastasia had never spent more than three minutes in the room until then. "And he hasn't dated an American since the eighties."

"Yes, well," Brenda grabbed her mail and moved towards the stairs. "I'd better go see what he wants, hadn't I?"

Half of her wanted to take the stairs three at time to see what had brought the most famous stage director in the world to her hotel room in the middle of the afternoon, while half of her wanted to prolong the walk to her room to collect her thoughts. He couldn't be here to complain about her performance in the summer program. She wasn't the type to brag – okay, maybe she was – but all of the directors had said really nice things about her, and even Anastasia, however backhanded her compliments, had noticed her talent.

_He could be here to offer me a part in a play, _Brenda thought, her heart racing at the thought. It was a weird time of year, but maybe he was offering to have her step in for someone else in a play that was already running. Of course, that opened the would-she-take-it debate, and while her impulse was to jump at the chance, she knew her parents wouldn't approve of her dropping out of school to pursue acting.

She didn't know how to explain to them that the last six weeks had been the best of her life, or at least, of the last few years. She didn't know how to tell them that in Beverly Hills, even when she was happy and smiling, she was miserable. Here, in London, while acting, she actually had good days. Many, many good days.

Over the last six weeks she'd been valued, she'd been respected. She'd made friends, friends who cared what she thought and asked her for help running lines and interpreting characters. And she'd actually gone out and enjoyed herself. There was a guy, in one of her classes, Ryan, who was cute, and sweet, and into her, and it wasn't anything serious, but they ran lines together, and they went out every once in awhile, and there had been a couple serious kissing sessions. And she hadn't thought of Dylan while she was with him.

She was happy and relaxed in a way that her friends back home took for granted, in a way she hadn't been since she'd returned from Paris. She wasn't ready to give that up, and she certainly wasn't ready to give it up if she had any other options.

If Roy offered her a part in a play, she'd have another option, only it would be one she couldn't take without worsening her relationship with her parents, and she just wasn't ready for that fight.

Finally coming to her door, Brenda took a calming breath and turned the key in the door.

"Roy," half-sincere cheeriness filled her voice. "I heard a rumor you were in here."

And in her room he was, leaning against her dresser, exuding the confidence that was his trademark. Brenda wondered if the man was ever insecure about anything, because she couldn't imagine it. And oddly, she wasn't insecure around him. Not since the meltdown she'd had on stage during the auditions for Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.

"Mrs. Bellingham let me in," he announced, stepping forward to hug Brenda tight and kiss each of her cheeks. Brenda checked the hall to make sure no fellow RADA students had seen the exchange before closing the door. She'd only just escaped the inappropriate relationship rumors when she left LA, she didn't want to start them up again in her last days in London. "I hope you don't mind."

He said it in a way that didn't really allow for the possibility that she might have minded, and Brenda found that she wasn't lying when she told him she was happy to see him.

"I come with news," he announced, with no preamble. "The Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts has decided to offer you a seat in their bachelors program in … well, dramatic arts."

Brenda's eyes widened, and she moved over to the bed, sinking onto the mattress without realizing she had moved out of the doorway. She hadn't expected this.

"But I didn't audition…"

"Why on Earth did you think I got you into this program?" Roy shook his head, like she'd said the stupidest thing in the world. "This _was _your audition, my dear. And I don't want to hear any monetary concerns because we're offering you a full scholarship and I've spoken to my old friend Margaret, who owns a café down the street. She's offered you the flat above her shop for ridiculously low rent, assuming you'll work in the café in your spare time. It's all set."

"It's all set," Brenda echoed, still in shock. A real position at the RADA. It was a dream she'd never allowed herself to dream. Back in high school, when she'd been looking at colleges, she'd considered the RADA, but she'd never had the courage to audition. Somewhere between middle school and senior year of high school, she'd lost her courage when it came to her acting, and she'd never had the courage to audition to any school better than UMinn or CU. She'd been surprised when she was accepted to those drama programs.

But the RADA… it was like… it was like the Ivy League of acting schools, only it was the whole Ivy League, not just Harvard or Yale or whatever the other Ivy League schools were.

"Well," Roy feigned impatience in his voice, although his face betrayed him, with a kind smile. "What do you say?"

"Why?"

"Because I asked them to," he answered honestly. "Because you genuinely love what you do, and it shows, and I find it quite refreshing. And also because you're one of the best actresses I've ever seen with so little training, and your instructors all agreed. Now, say you accept the position."

"I… I need to… I should talk to…"

"There's no time for you to argue with your parents about this," Roy cut in. "If you don't accept by six tonight, the spot goes to a student on the wait list."

"Okay," Brenda stood up and held out her hand. "I'm in. I accept."


End file.
